


A Treatise on Inflatable Jacuzzis and Sexual Fiction

by Adamantia



Category: British Comedy RPF, Taskmaster (UK TV) RPF
Genre: F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Hot Tub, Humor, Kissing, Me and my unresolved teacher kink, Neck Kissing, Outdoor Sex, POV Alternating, POV Multiple, Porn with Feelings, Size Difference, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:55:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27068995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adamantia/pseuds/Adamantia
Summary: In honour of the new series of Taskmaster, here's some more of my particular brand of lightly angsty dual-viewpoint smut.This is inspired by Greg Davies' revelation on the Russell Howard Hour that he hasan inflatable jacuzzi on his balcony. As a fan of both hot tubs with a view and very tall men, this ticks a lot of sexual boxes for me. I'm not even sorry.Enjoy, you filthy animals.
Relationships: Greg Davies/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	A Treatise on Inflatable Jacuzzis and Sexual Fiction

It had been her idea all along.

‘It’s far too cold! Are you insane, woman?’

‘I’m going in and you can't stop me. Have you got a towel I could borrow?’

He gives her The Look as he lobs a towel towards her, one eyebrow arching skyward, and she smiles.

*

He’s right. It’s bloody cold. But a hot tub is always better under a crisp winter sky. She steps out onto the balcony to find him already in the tub, despite his earlier protestations. His long arms are draped expansively across the sides of the ridiculous thing. _Who buys an inflatable jacuzzi, for Christ’s sake?_

She didn't come prepared for this eventuality, and so as she removes the towel she’s painfully aware of the fact that she is now clad in just her knickers and a white tank top. Hardly the most attractive swimwear choice.

She steps into the water, sits down, lets out an involuntary, luxuriant moan of pleasure as the heat hits her. She feels him shift his long limbs beside her to make room.

It’s gorgeous. Before her, the lights of London stretch out into the distance, the faint hum and bustle of the winter city at night in her ears.

‘Just beautiful’ she whispers, almost to herself.

‘Yes, beautiful is the word.’

There is something quietly reverent in his tone that makes her look up. His eyes are fixed on her face and she is suddenly very, very aware of their extreme proximity.

_Now or never, I guess._

She turns in the water, moving towards him. His eyes go wide. Leaning forward, she kisses him. It’s a soft, sweet whisper of a kiss, but it's a kiss nonetheless. It’s a beginning.

She draws back to look at him, checking his reaction. He is looking at her as if he can't quite believe she is real. She leans in again, this time with intent, her fingers grazing up the sides of his face, tracing the lines of his stubble, curling in his hair as she bites gently on his bottom lip, seeking permission.

_Let me in._

His astonishment seems to give way to unbridled hunger and she feels both his hands come up to claim her face, holding her in place as he deepens the kiss, taking control. She moans into his mouth and he swears under his breath and tightens his hold on her, possessive and hungry. Emboldened by his reaction, she moves so that she is straddling his lap, her arms around his neck. She feels him then, rock hard against her, and she is certain her face gives away her shock and delight at the sheer size of him.

His expression is amused and his tone is gently mocking as his hands roam her spine. ‘I’m not sure what you were expecting to happen, given that you, a beautiful and almost-naked woman, have just climbed into my lap. Cause and effect, and all that.’

She laughs, a laugh which quickly turns into a whimper as he begins to kiss her with intent; across the fragile skin of her throat, down across her collarbones, towards her breasts. It’s her sweet spot, her neck, and she is utterly helpless in his arms. He knows it, too, the bastard.

‘You like this, don’t you?’ His breath ghosts across her skin and she shivers. His fingers slide under the straps of her now-soaking top, which is doing very little in the way of concealing anything. ‘Can I?’

She nods assent and he slides the straps down her shoulders carefully, pulling at the sodden fabric. Her nipples are rigid from the icy air and the kisses, and as he closes his lips over one sensitive nub she gasps and rocks against him, digging her fingers into his shoulders. His hand cradles her other breast, stroking delicate patterns on her skin, his huge hands touching her as if she were made of glass. He draws back from her, for a moment, and his eyes are full of some emotion that she can't quite place, at least until he verbalises it.

‘You don't have to do this…we don't…are you sure this is what you want?’ His eyes are wary, doubtful.

‘Haven’t I made that clear?’ She kissed him just above his temple, feels him shudder in her arms. ‘I want this.’ Another kiss on the hinge of his jaw, and he is trembling against her. ‘I want you. Please don't make me stop now.’ A final kiss on his lips, soft and reassuring, and his eyes are desperate as his shaking hands tangle in her curls, kissing her with a hunger that takes her breath away.

‘Please’ she gasps, pulling his hand down to where she needs it to be. He moans, brokenly, sliding a large hand into her underwear and stroking rough, perfect circles on her clit, and she grinds shamelessly against his hand, chasing the sensation. He slides one finger inside her, practised and perfect, while his thumb works her clit and his mouth plunders hers. She rocks her hips against him, her whole body rigid as she chases the orgasm she knows is not far away.

‘I need to come, I’m going to come, please…’

‘Show me’ he gasps, his other hand rolling her hips against him. ‘I want to see. So fucking beautiful. Let me see.’

The build-up is so glorious that she never wants it to end. His huge body, the scent of his aftershave, his broken gasps and the thick pulse of his erection against her as he fucks her with his fingers. She knows it’s going to be a big one, and when it finally hits her she arches her spine and wails his name and digs her fingernails into his shoulders and _Jesus Christ, she can feel tears in her eyes._

His fingers on her cheeks, blotting the tears, then his lips. He is murmuring soothingly into her hair, words of praise and desire, sweet nonsense that she can't really hear but adores nonetheless. He is cradling her against his chest as she slumps boneless against him. Eventually, she regains enough awareness of her surroundings to look up. His eyes are blazing with desire and affection in equal measure and she can feel him still rigid and throbbing against her. She smiles.

‘Shall we take this inside? I think it’s definitely your turn.’

******

******

******

It had been her idea all along.

‘It’s far too cold! Are you insane, woman?’

‘I’m going in and you can't stop me. Have you got a towel I could borrow?’

He gives her The Look as he lobs a towel towards her, one eyebrow arching skyward, and she smiles.

*

He’s right. It’s bloody cold. He knew he was right. But he’s not a fool and he’s not going to pass up the opportunity to get into a jacuzzi with her. He is already in the tub when she emerges onto the balcony.

He shifts awkwardly, filled with sudden self-doubt. _Maybe she really is just interested a free hot tub session with an admittedly excellent view? I mean come on, you could almost be her dad, for Christ’s sake. Pull yourself together._

And then she removes her towel and all thoughts of pulling himself together disappear along with it. She is wearing just her knickers and a white tank top. Her long, wavy hair is pinned up haphazardly in a bun, her pale skin is glowing in the soft light streaming from the window, and the cold air is doing wonderful things to her nipples. He cannot take his eyes off her.

She steps into the water, sits down, lets out an involuntary, luxuriant moan of pleasure as the heat hits her. The water instantly renders her top translucent. Escaping curls fall down around her bare shoulders, and her eyes close in bliss. He is so hard at the sight of her that he couldn't stand up if someone held a gun to his head. He shuts his eyes, breathes, reminds himself to keep it together, and tries unsuccessfully to shift his position so she won't notice his predicament.

When he opens his eyes again, she is gazing out across the city. Her profile is outlined against the lights of London as they stretch out into the distance and she looks utterly absorbed and peaceful. Her eyes are alight and her hands are propped under her chin and God help him, he loves her in that moment. The desire that tears through his body is like a physical pain. He has to clench his fists to stop himself from taking her in his arms.

_She is far, far out of your reach, mate. Pull yourself together._

‘Just beautiful’ she whispers, almost to herself.

‘Yes, beautiful is the word.’ He says it before he can stop himself. _Fuck._

He is getting ready to change the subject, to pass this all off as a joke, when she looks up at him, her eyes questioning, wide and lovely in the darkness. He can't move. He could die happy as long as she carries on looking at him like that.

She turns in the water, moving towards him. Before he is really able to process what is happening, her lips are touching his. Soft and almost shy, and yet he can count on one hand the number of times in his life that a simple kiss has had such an effect on him. He is too stunned to respond, hardly daring to believe.

She draws back to look at him, checking his reaction. He knows his face must tell her everything he is feeling. She leans in again, and there is nothing shy about this second kiss. Her fingers, small and delicate, are cradling his face, tracing the lines of his stubble, burying themselves in his hair. And then she bites down gently on his bottom lip, traces his mouth with her tongue, and he is lost.

The reality of the situation hits him. She is in his arms, she wants him, she is kissing him, and he is the luckiest son of a bitch in this entire city, possibly the world. He lets himself touch her, finally, the way he has dreamed of since they first met. He takes her face in his hands, his long fingers tracing the delicate, soft lines of her jaw, her cheekbones. He deepens the kiss, taking control, and she moans, _she fucking moans_ , into his mouth and he swears under his breath and tightens his hold on her. _Mine._

She moves so that she is straddling him, her arms around his neck, and he is unprepared, emotionally and physically, for the sensation of this wet, semi-naked goddess in his lap. He’s so hard it hurts, and as she moves on his lap she feels him against her. Her lovely blue eyes widen in shock and he can’t help a small smirk. _Big all over._

His hands roam her spine, craving more of her glorious skin. ‘I’m not sure what you were expecting to happen, given that you, a beautiful and almost-naked woman, have just climbed into my lap. Cause and effect, and all that.’

She laughs against his neck, a laugh which quickly turns into a whimper as he begins to kiss her neck, across the fragile skin of her throat, down across her collarbones towards her breasts. Her response is so erotic that he can no longer think; his entire existence is focused on drawing more soft whimpers and gasps and shivers from her. ‘You like this, don’t you?’ She trembles in response and he needs more of her, now. His fingers slide under the straps of her now-soaking top, which is doing very little in the way of concealing anything. ‘Can I?’

She nods assent and he slides the straps down her shoulders carefully, pulling at the sodden fabric. Her nipples are rigid from the icy air and from his kisses, and as he closes his lips over one sensitive nub she gasps and rocks against him, digging her fingers into his shoulders. His hand cradles her other breast, stroking delicate patterns on her skin. She is utterly precious to him, a gift that he knows he doesn't deserve. To be the one allowed to touch her, to stroke her silken skin, to hold her in his arms, is more than he had ever imagined. He still can’t really process the situation, and he draws back from her for a moment, needing to be certain.

‘You don't have to do this…we don't…are you sure this is what you want?’

She looks at him then with a mixture of affection, lust and mild disdain that makes something bubble up inside his chest, warm and terrifying in equal measure.

‘Haven’t I made that clear?’ She leans forward and kisses him just above his temple, very gently. He shudders. ‘I want this.’ Another kiss, just as tender as the first, this time on the hinge of his jaw, and he is aware that he is trembling in her arms and he cannot stop it. ‘I want you. Please don't make me stop now.’ A final kiss on his lips, soft and reassuring, and he can bear it no longer. He reaches for her, claiming her, kissing her with a hunger that he didn't know he possessed.

‘Please’ she gasps. She is pulling his hand downwards and he moans helplessly as he slides one large hand into her underwear and strokes rough circles on her clit with fingers that are still trembling a little. She grinds against his hand as he slides one finger inside her, practised and perfect, while his thumb works her clit and his mouth plunders hers. She rocks her hips against him, her whole body rigid as she chases her orgasm. He is overwhelmed with the need to see her come, to feel her spasm on his fingers, to hold her as she breaks apart for him.

‘I need to come, I’m going to come, please…’

‘Show me’ he gasps, broken and desperate, his other hand rolling her hips against him. ‘I want to see. So fucking beautiful. Let me see.’

He never wants this to end. She is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen and she is writhing and moaning on his fingers and he can hardly breathe for the wonder of it. The orgasm hits her and she arches her spine and wails his name and digs her fingernails into his shoulders and _Jesus Christ, there are tears in her eyes._ _Sweet girl._

His fingers on her cheeks, blotting the tears, then his lips. He whispers to her that she is beautiful, perfect, precious, incredible; soothing nonsense that he’s not said to anyone for years. He cradles her against his chest as she slumps boneless against him.

Eventually, she regains enough awareness of her surroundings to look up. He cannot take his eyes off her. He is both aching for release and so utterly absorbed in her that he hardly knows how to proceed. She smiles up at him, her big blue eyes shining and gleeful and so very beautiful.

‘Shall we take this inside? I think it’s definitely your turn.’


End file.
